Lay of Luthien
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: 'He did not want to walk beneath the mallorn trees and sing ballads of love. But she had wanted to weave necklaces of flowers and crowns of thistles. He had not time for such foolishness.' A friendship that spans the ages and the things that come between


Lay of Luthien

***

She had played in the woods as a child, just a waif of a creature with her black hair weaving among the mallorn trees. He had been young as well, but not so much as she, and had not had patience for her questions. He had wanted naught but to follow the Galadhrim on their marches and learn to shoot with bow and arrow and to fight with the sword. He wanted to be a warrior, not a lover of Elf maidens. He did not want to walk beneath the mallorn trees and sing ballads of love. But she had wanted to weave necklaces of flowers and crowns of thistles. He had not time for such foolishness.

He wanted to guard the Golden Wood, to be tall and strong and swift. She had teased him as he had battled imaginary goblins with sticks of wood, had laughed with her dark eyes and tucked flyaway hair behind her pointed ear. 

__

"My brothers have fought the goblins. You are just playing."

He had snapped at her, flushing to the tips of his ears. "Go back to your father. See if your wreaths of flowers can guard your home. One day I will be a Marchwarden and you will be nothing but a silly maiden. Then you will wish you had not mocked my fighting."

His taunts had only elicited another giggle. "I'm going to marry a fine Lord. Why should I want a Galadhrim?"

"I will not marry, especially not a braggart, spoiled maiden like you. I will be a warrior instead."

She had only smiled in that strange way she had and gone back to her flowers, wrapping them around her little girl wrists and humming a ballad she'd heard her father sing as he watched out the window towards the sea.

She had come again as the years passed, each time a bit taller, a bit more grown. She laughed and teased more and twisted flowers together less. His heart was still not fond of romance, but he preferred to tell her of the patrols he had gone on under watch of the elder Galadhrim, to boast of his accomplishments and to share the praise that had been bestowed on him. She would tell him in turn of her own home, of the pretty little place in the valley, of the elves who sang and danced and were merry. He must come see it, she said, and compare it to the beauty of Lorien.

He had scoffed, saying that nothing was as fair as the Golden Wood, be it Elf or another wood. And she had smiled again and hummed the same tune as they walked in the woods. He had dreamed of battles and honour; she had thought of romance and marriage, for she was growing into womanhood and her mind tended towards such thoughts now.

He grew as well, always a bit taller than her, a bit older, a bit prouder. She was soft and gentle and full of a sort of dark flame, while he was colder and harsher, a sun to her night. She found joy in the trees, in climbing them when they were alone with no adults to rebuke or worry. He talked of which tree made the strongest bow, the smoothest arrow, the lightest sword hilt.

__

"Come, you must see this. It's beautiful up here."

"You know what they would say. Come down."

"Do not be so. Come up."

And he would join her in the trees, the one that had made the bow that leaned against the trunk, and she had pointed out the stars and had talked of her brothers and of the Man-child Estel.

As the years passed, her talk of Estel became more frequent, until she told him that the boy was no mere Man but was Isildur's Heir and had left Rivendell and his Elf family. She spoke sadly, with darkened eyes, and he watched her and wondered what emotion made her thus. He had met this Man several times in Lothlorien, had watched him walk with the sons of the Peredhil. But neither he nor the twin sons had looked upon Estel as she had and neither had been as saddened by his loss.

He wondered at this, and wondered if he would be saddened if she did not walk again in his woods, if he did not glimpse her dark hair among the golden trees any longer. But he talked with her as he did his brothers, no differently, and felt clouded by no other emotion when he saw her. She was merely a companion, a shadow of her grandmother's brilliance. He would never serve in her lands as he did here, would never feel any other loyalty to her than to protect her as the blood relative of his Lord and Lady. He could not understand any other feeling.

He saw her less and less as she came of age and grew less interested in traveling to other woods and fonder of her own home. When she came she still smiled at him, still talked beneath the trees with him, but she no longer invited him to climb the branches. They spent longer in silence, less time in the stars.

One night she shone brighter than the sun during the day and told him that she had seen Estel. She had spoken of love, of the ballad of Luthien Tinuviel and Beren, the Elf and Man who had fallen in love. He knew the ballad well, as it was one she had sung to him for many years.

At her words there was a strange stirring in his heart, a twisting of his stomach that made him feel ill. She no longer cared for his tales of patrols and only listened vaguely to his talk. She returned to her flowers, gathering them into groups before casting them aside in sudden disinterest for a new bundle. Her eyes glowed darkly at the mention of him, she would glance up at an approaching step in the forest.

__

"I do not wish to hear the story again."

"Why not? It is beautiful."

"And I have heard it enough times to make it repulsive to my ears. Can you think of naught else but the foolish tale?"

"It is not foolishness. You are simply envious."

"Envious? Do not fool yourself. I pity any of our kind who would give their heart to a mortal. Any who would do so should be ashamed to call themselves Quendi. We are the blessed ones. Men must die, but we are welcomed into Valinor. Why would you curse yourself thus with Men?"

"Do not say such things!"

"I say as I wish. You simply do not wish to hear. You know it is truth."

"Luthien married a Mortal."

"Yea, but you are not Luthien. Or have you forgotten?"

Their friendship had faded from that day, when she had turned from him in a black anger and had left, spending the remainder of her visit in the company of her grandmother. He had not spoken with her again.

He had not seen but glimpses of her, had not caught word of her save for snatches of rumours, for many years. The Ring-bearer had passed through their woods, in the company of men and dwarves- such as Lorien had not seen for many summers. The One Ring had been cast into the depths of Mordor, and Frodo of the Nine Fingers had returned a hero, be it a wearied one. 

The two who had once wandered the riverbends of Lorien seemed to forget all about each other. He did not fully lay eyes upon her again until he traveled with Celeborn and Galadriel to Gondor. She was to be wed, as Luthien to her Beren, and would become a queen of men, not a Lady of Elves as he had once thought she would become. And though the race of Aragorn Elesser be long-lived, they would fade with time. Arwen Evenstar would not pass over the waters to the Undying Lands. She would remain and take the curse of men.

He never truly noticed how beautiful she was until that day, and the knowledge pained him like the piercing of an arrow. For he knew now that the curse of men was perhaps a blessing as well. For though death brought an end to life and beauty, he himself would have no end to his loss of his dark companion.

__

"Will you miss me when I am gone, Haldir?"

"Why should you be gone?"

"Have you not heard what they say? That I am like Luthien. You do know the tale, do you not?"

"Yea, I know it."

"She died, Haldir."

"Do not be foolish. You are not Luthien."

"What if I wish to be?"

END


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